


Tales of a Perfect Shire

by Dragonraptor



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses, Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/F, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonraptor/pseuds/Dragonraptor
Summary: Auradonshire is a quite British town. Nothing ever happens. But not all that is gold glitters and what is fair may be foul. There is more to this town than meets the eye, more story behind the folklore and afternoon gossips than most could think. Secrets have this nasty tendency to seek the light and sometimes all they need is a stranger to arrive in town.





	Tales of a Perfect Shire

     Auradonshire was like many towns in rural England: a paradox of the mundane and the mystical. Boring but with a fable behind every tree trunk.

     It was small enough for everybody to know everybody’s names and for not a single apple to fall without all knowing about it. But at the same time it was large enough for there to be a clear status quo and a steady economy.

     And as all old towns, the streets and woods were filled with folklore. From werewolves in the Black Forest to houses haunted by long dead ancestors.

     Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened and it could be quite dull, something that both pleased and annoyed the inhabitants. Yet, there were the “rotten apples”, as some liked to call it – people and families who’s odd behavior had become the only source of actual intrigue around these parts.

     “Yes, yes, the Arendelle girls are quite queer indeed,” Lady Grimhilde said between sips of her tea one afternoon in the Mouse House. “The whole Arendelle family was odd, though I would’ve expected no less from Scandinavian stock, if you take my meaning. Both were scientists or something of the like, though I heard they came from failed nobility. The younger of you won’t remember but they were quite reclusive. I wager it was because of that daughter of theirs.”

     Audrey giggled. “Albino Elsa, you mean?”

     “The Ice Queen, more like,” piped Cora Red from where she was playing cards with Cruella and Madame Medusa.

     “Murderer, you mean,” mumbled Cruella as she frowned at her cards.

     The tea room was filled with exclaims of confusion. _Murder? What do you mean? The Arendelles were killed?_ And the likes of that. The older woman did not partake much in it, having had their fill when the whole episode took place. But the younger ones, were quite eager to hear the tale, despite many having heard it or in the very least very detailed rumors before. Lady Grimhilde smiled into her cup as she pretended to not be paying much attention. Her daughter, Evie, who she dragged everywhere like a prized dog kept her eyes downcast as she drank, not wanting to partake in the theater unless ordered to.

     “You ought to watch your tongue, Cruella,” Grimhilde said reproaching, despite having instructed the woman to bring it up every time they talked about the Arendelle’s. “But, alas, it is true that Elsa was orphaned. At such a young age, I may add. She was fifteen, I reckon, her sister even younger. Nobody to take them up, or so was the argument. But it was Elsa’s doing, didn’t even let them take her sister to be raised in a more normal family. Some lawyers in London got her to be called an adult, or something of the likes, and made her the master of the manor and Anna’s guardian.” Grimhilde shook her head. “It’s a wonder how Anna grew up to be a pleasant girl, a bit too energetic, if you not mind me saying. But that’s what you get when girls lack a firm hand during the raising, if you get my meaning.”

     Evie got her meaning perfectly well. She was barely managing to sit on even the cushioned chairs today because she had ignored Chad Charming during his mother’s dinner last night.

     “At any rate,” Grimhilde went on, almost rocking her chair. “The Arendelle deaths was such an odd occurrence from the very start. They were found _frozen_ , if you believe it – in the middle of the summer, no less, and in their own house! So of course whispers went here and there. But the inspectors reckoned it was a mixing of chemicals they had in their labs, where they were found for that matter. A freak accident, they said. And I say it was fitting for such a queer bunch. Not that it scared off the Lady Elsa from following her parent’s footsteps, or so I’ve heard. Every now and then I see some light coming from that laboratory of the manor. Her sister is out of danger, I reckon. Not much brains to go down that path, if you understand me.”

     Another wave of giggles overtook the Mouse House.

     “Did you hear?” Lady Tremaine said from her own table. “She is to marry that farmer that lives next to their mansion.”

     “Smart is what I call it,” Lady Grimhilde shot back. “Their lands will merge. Or you think Anna Arendelle will move to a small cabin in the hills with that boy? Albino Elsa is as smart as she is queer.”

     But even Lady Grimhilde wasn’t immune to the talks. Nobody knew her real age – nobody was rude enough to ask – but she most certainly was over her mid-forties and yet didn’t seem a day older than thirty and something. _Well-preserved_ the more polite called her, _unchanged_ would be more correct as the more vociferous ladies pointed out though only in whispers and only during the lady’s absence.

     “It’s unnatural!” some said. “Must be a pact or something.”

     Some women would nod along, others would silently wish to stop aging as well and then there were those that would take note and whisper names in Grimhilde’s ears. But such talks were only done by the women and between themselves, the wives had long learned that their husbands would amount their suspicion to jealously and laugh. They weren’t wrong. Up to now, though, her daughter Evie had given no indication of eternal youth, much for the contrary, the girl was aging beautifully and elegantly. The jewel of the town and the role model for all other girls in the region.

     “So Adam,” Philip tapped his friend on the shoulder. “Will you be asking Grimhilde for Evie’s hand for Ben?”

     The mayor’s laughter was strangled by the pipe in his mouth. He looked over Charming’s shoulder to where Ben and the other lads were playing a round of cards. The man normally skipped the Mouse House and spent their late afternoons in the Hog’s Head, where the air was thick with smoke and the tap never ran dry.

     “Ah,” he grunted, scratching his beard. “Belle thinks he is too young. And Ben himself seems more interested in his studies than marrying. Like his mother, he is.”

     “That might be for the best,” Archimedes Q. Porter piped. “Building a career is very important.”

     “Listen to the professor, Adam!” Charming said, waving his pipe at the man.

     Adam laughed. “You are only saying that because your son is after the Grimhilde girl.”

     Charming grunted. “Can you blame him? If I wasn’t married…”

     And so the days were spent like this. Idle gossip. Trivial intrigue to keep the mind running. And your average gloating.

 

     So when news arrived that somebody would move into the Griffin Manor, the town erupted into a flurry of questions and theories. It had already been in the centre of the town’s gossip a few months ago when its former owner, Sir Elezar, had died. Nothing out of the common there really. His heart had burst, he was old, and that was that. But now somebody _new_ was going to live there. For the townsfolk, that meant a brand new name to learn, truly new stories to hear and gossip about.

     It was Professor Archimedes, one of the few that had little like and time for gossip, that actually had a good idea of who it was going to be. Sir Elezar happened to have once told him about his family tree and that his heirs were a small noble family from Spain, the Flores, who happened to be governors of the Avalor province in the Americas at the time. Much for his chagrin this only stoked the flames of curiosity and he soon found himself apparently with the new title of “expert” in this matter despite him knowing little to nothing about the Flores themselves. So much did the townsfolk bother him that the Professor returned a few weeks earlier to London than he normally did.

     Eventually a name popped out: Elena. Grimhilde was the one to proudly say it one Friday afternoon just two days after Archimedes had left, and then Adam Beast confirmed it in a statement on the Sunday service. All were marveled by Grimhilde’s sudden knowledge of the matter. All save some of the older woman, who knew more things about Grimhilde and this region than they let on. And they knew full well where the woman got her information from: Maleficent le Fay.

     If life was an opera, lighting would flash whenever that name was spoken. The Le Fays were something of a respectful oddity in these parts. Nobody was more feared and more mysterious in all of England, at least in the mindset of the townsfolk – and they weren’t much wrong. There were two of them, mother and daughter, both called Maleficent, though the daughter was shortened to Mal, when somebody talked to her, that is. That luxury was reserved mainly to Evie, one of the few people to actually visit that manor regularly and so she was the centre of attention to answer the rumors about the place. The Forbidden Mountain people liked to call it, so much so that nobody remembered it’s actual name. It was an old dark castle turned mansion, on top of an old dark hill in the centre of the old dark Black Forest, accessible only through a dark old winding road.

     Despite rarely visiting town, Maleficent seemed to know about everything that went on there. And she was seemingly the only one to actually know about events outside Auradonshire. So it was only expected that she would be the first one to know about who was to move in to the Griffin Manor. If we are to be frank, she would’ve known long before the old knight had passed away.

     On that same Sunday when Adam had proclaimed Auradonshire’s new inhabitant, Maleficent was walking through her garden. The sun was bright, one of summer’s last blazes. The plants loved it, she could tell. They were bright green now, some still with fruit, some still in bloom. Soon all would turn to russet. Maleficent liked russet more than green. Most of all, she liked it when the ground was white, the air cold and the nights long. She found Mal at the centre of the rosy maze where an ivy clad gazebo stood, reflected by a shallow pond filled with frogs. Mal did not acknowledge her mother, her eyes were focused on her painting.

     “I’ve heard quite an interesting rumor today,” Maleficent said as a greeting. “Apparently, the boys in town are to ask Evie in marriage.”

     Nobody save Maleficent would’ve noticed the way Mal’s brushes stiffened.

     “What do I care?” Mal retorted calmly, her eyes never leaving her painting. “Isn’t that why she was born? Sold like prized cattle to become some breeding bitch? A victory for her mother. A prize for the husband. And then the cycle repeats. That’s the way humans work.”

     Maleficent leaned against a sturdy bush, the thorns like tickles against her skin. “You could abduct her to Tír na nÓg, like we did in the good old days.”

     “Yes. And then in a few centuries she would get homesick, convince me to let her visit the surface and despite me warning her not to, she would touch the ground and become dust. No, thank you. She’s mortal, and I’m immortal. Never do such relations end well mother. Better for her to live the life her mother wrought for her before she could talk.”

     And with that, Maleficent knew her little poking had come to an end, and so she left her daughter alone in the garden. But that did not mean she forgot, oh no. She would see it done. Not out of love for her daughter, mind you. The law was clear: what a Le Fay wanted, a Le Fay got. And Mal’s words echoed in her ears: _mortal and immortal_. Well, arrangements could be made for that. But not now. First, she was curious about the Elena girl.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be a long run, I hope you guys enjoy!


End file.
